Christmas Visitors

by

Beppina

“We shouldn’t have stopped for that last beer, Joe,” Candy moaned as he guided the team of two horses through the now-deepening snow. “We’d have been home by now an’ in the warm.”

“You were just as anxious to stay,” came the grunted retort from deep inside the green jacket, “Sally-Anne was keen on you hangin’ around!”

It was the night before Christmas Eve. Joe Cartwright and Candy Canaday had taken the wagon into Virginia City on a final shopping errand for Hop Sing. The cook was certain he would be running out of foodstuff long before the end of the Christmas festivities and had ordered the two cowboys to help him out by a trip into town. Hop Sing was quite a wily old bird and knew they would stop for a beer or two before returning to the ranch. He wasn’t concerned about it. It was Christmas, after all.

“Looks like this is here to stay,” Candy observed, brushing snow from his knees, and giving a shiver. “Wish I’d bought my slicker!”

Joe grunted a second time. He was hunched up alongside Candy. His head and shoulders were buried deep into the collar of his jacket; his hat pulled down over his eyes for protection. He was wringing his gloved hands together to get some heat into his cold fingers.

“Reckon Hop Sing’ll have some hot water on for a bath?” Candy questioned.

“I sure hope so. I can’t feel my feet now,” came the grumbled reply. “I’ll bet Pa’s sat in front of the fire enjoying a brandy just to keep out the cold.”

Candy chuckled and shrugged his shoulders to ease the ache in his back. He whistled at the horses and called out to encourage them on.

“Think warm thoughts, Joe. Think warm thoughts.”

Onwards, they travelled at what seemed snail’s pace, but considering the conditions, it was a sensible speed. The visibility was reduced by the minute as the snowfall became more intense. The only sound was that of the wagon and horses passing through.

Joe peered into the white surroundings as he tried to make out any landmarks.

“Can’t see a damned thing beyond the horses. I reckon we’re about two hours out at this rate.”

“You gonna spell me for a bit?” Candy asked and wriggled his butt on the hard seat.

“Must I?” Joe sat upright in the seat, “Candy, what’s that upfront? Can you see? There’s something in the middle of the track. Stop the wagon.”

The horses eased to a halt. The wagon slipped on the loose snow and then stopped. Joe jumped down, almost falling as the snow gave way under him.

“Blast,” he cursed as he moved forward to the slow-moving obstacle.

“Hey!” He called as he moved forward, “Hey, what are you doing?” Joe’s hand hovered over his pistol, its small tie undone, ready for action. The snow-covered figure stood still, then turned to face the voice.

“What are you doin’?” Joe asked. He was amazed. It was two people walking during a snowstorm.

“Where are you goin’?”

“Followin’ the road. Lookin’ for shelter,” the male spoke, “We took a wrong turn somewhere, we were going to Virginia City.”

“You’re miles outta your way. Get up on the wagon, we’ll take you with us.” Joe started moving things around on the flatbed, making space for the two cold and weary people. Candy twisted back and pulled at the spare tarp.

“Here, this’ll keep the snow off a bit.”

With Joe giving them a helping hand, the couple climbed aboard and huddled down amongst the supplies.

“We’s mighty grateful for the ride Mister. We’s not used to this snow,” the man addressed Joe.

“You’d be dead if’n you were out in this all night. The name’s Cartwright, Joe Cartwright. This is Canaday, you can call him Candy.”

“Thank you both, Mister Joe, Mister Candy. We’s in your debt, that’s for sure.”

The journey onwards was slow and laborious. The track was deep with pristine snow, the ruts and rocks hidden under the now thick white blanket. The light had gone, and they were travelling at a walking pace. Joe had taken over the reins, giving Candy a break from the constant concentration. Their conversation had dried up as they trekked homeward at a painstaking speed. Now, both had their eyes peeled for any hidden dangers. One mistake and they would be in serious trouble.

“I can smell smoke,” Candy announced, “we must be pretty close to the house.”

“I bet Pa’ll be worrying. I just hope Hop Sing has plenty of hot water ready. “

“Yeah, and a large brandy to warm the insides,” Candy laughed. They were both frozen through. Fingers and toes were numb, and their faces red. Oh, to be inside the house. Just the thought of the roaring log fire made them smile in anticipation.

The horses picked up pace into the yard. Even this close to the house, it was hidden by the heavy snowfall. The only light visible came from the lantern hanging on the porch. A beacon in the darkness in normal conditions, now just a muted glow.

“We’re here.” Joe jumped from the seat and unhooked the tailboard. The passengers crawled from their cramped space and climbed down to his side.

The front door swung open, and a bright light flooded the porch. Ben Cartwright stood in the doorway. Hop Sing at his side.

“You’re home. Thank heavens. I was getting worried. Come on, get in and get warm,” Ben ordered, then spotted an extra two people. “Who have we here then?”

“A couple of strays we picked up on the road, Pa. Thought we’d better bring ‘em home.”

“Come on in then. Candy, grab a couple of hands to unload the wagon and sort the horses. Plenty of feed for them tonight. Then get in here.”

“Yes, Sir. Mister Cartwright,” Candy jogged over to the bunkhouse, grateful someone else would do the last of the work.

Ben led the couple into the house, and Joe followed on behind. The heat inside was quite overpowering after the cold they had felt. His jacket was soon on the peg, with his gun belt curled on the sideboard. It took seconds for him to stand in front of the blazing fire. The couple remained just inside the door, nervous about the big, solidly built, and imposing man before them. The man looked from father to son in amazement. The son was of a much smaller stature though an equally commanding presence.

“Well, Joseph?”

“I thought it would be better to bring them here. They’d have died out in that storm.”

“Mister Cartwright,” the man spoke, his voice soft and low, “my name is Jedadiah Freeman, this is my wife, Clara. We were goin’ to Virginia City, lookin’ for work. Must’ve missed the turn someplace. This young man stopped an’ bought us here. We’s much obliged to him for that.”

“Well, Mister Freeman. You certainly won’t be going anywhere for the time being. We’ve plenty of room so you and your wife are more than welcome to stay here until the road clears.”

“We can bed down in the stable, Sir. We don’t want to intrude on your family,” The woman spoke, her voice as soft as her husband’s.

“No. You can use one of the guest rooms. The stable is full other than the loft space. Come and sit down and get warm. You can tell us all about yourselves, how you ended up on the Ponderosa.”

Hop Sing scuttled in and out of the room laden with sandwiches and coffee. Ben indicated for him to sit and hear Freeman’s story. Joe grabbed a couple of bites to take to his room. He excused himself and then disappeared up the stairs. He was tired and still cold, but more importantly, he was not in the mood to socialize.

“I’ll hear your story tomorrow, Jedadiah. I’m off to my bed. Goodnight, all.”  With weary steps, Joe climbed the stairs and closed his door to the world. In the privacy of his room, Joe flung himself on the bed and covered his head with his arms. He wanted to blot out his surroundings. To remove himself from everything that reminded him of Alice and Hoss. This Christmas was going to be hard. He wanted to be strong, if only for his father. But for himself, he wanted peace. Peace from the ongoing pain that ripped his heart in two every time he thought of those departed. Peace from the tears that were always close to the surface, fighting to break free. In truth, Joe hated waking every morning to face the struggle of another day without them. He bit hard on his fist. He wanted to scream at the world about the injustice of losing two of the most important people in his life.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ben, started, “my son is not in the best place at the moment.”

“D’you want me to check up on him?” Candy asked as he rose from his seat.

“No, leave him be. I’ll look in later. Now Jedadiah, what brought you to Nevada?”

“Well, first, I’d better explain a couple of things. Clara and I are both educated, we can read, write, and do our numbers. We only use the dumb slave act until we know we are safe. You know we are free; we have the papers to prove it. Our old master was an English man. He didn’t believe in slavery and gave all his slaves their freedom. All of us young ones attended classes run by his wife. They were all paid, and we had reasonable living quarters, unlike on most plantations. During the war, some rebels killed them both. They tried to take all of us men into the army, but we ran away before they could get us all together.”

“Have you been wandering since then, or did you find any employment?”

“We made our way west and then north. Done odd jobs here and there. Stayed in a couple of nice towns, but we want to get our own place someday. So, we keep moving on.”

“Well, you’ve arrived at the wrong time to find work, that’s for sure. We run with just a handful of men over winter…”

“We don’t want to impose. I can turn my hand to anything, and Clara is good in the kitchen or the house. She’s real good at making stuff, too,” Jedadiah interrupted.

“We’ll get Christmas done with, then look at the situation. I’m sure a few days rest will do you both good.”

“Mister Cartwright, Ben, you said your son is not in a good place. May I ask why?” Clara spoke up.

“You may,” Ben poured another brandy and offered the others a refill. Ben then sat back and sighed.

“Joe lost his brother earlier this year. They were remarkably close, and Joe blames himself for his death.”

“I am so sorry.”

“That’s not all, I’m afraid. A couple of months after Hoss died, Joe met and married Alice. They were expecting a child. She was murdered. He also blames himself for that. The child would have been born next February.”

Jedadiah interrupted, “What did you say your other son’s name was?”

“I had three sons. Adam is my oldest, he’s in Australia. Hoss was my middle boy; Joseph is my youngest. I have another younger boy, Jamie, whom I adopted a couple of years back. He’s away at school in San Francisco just now.”

“This is going to sound strange,” Jedadiah started, “you said your son was called Hoss.” Ben nodded in agreement.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Was he a big man, taller than you? Wore a white ten-gallon hat? And Alice, was she a slim blonde, and quite petite?”

Ben frowned. He wondered how this man could describe someone he had never met. “Yes, that sounds very much like Hoss. Why?”

“Before we met with Joe, we were walking real slow, and to be honest, we didn’t think we would get much further. Well, two horses appeared through the snow. They stopped, and the man, a real big man with a white hat, spoke to us. He said that his brother Joe would be along in a few minutes with a wagon and that he would bring us here. The girl with him was silent, she just sat and waited. They weren’t really dressed for the snow. Oh, and he said, ‘Tell Joe, ole Hoss is fine and dandy, and that Alice is with him now.’ We thanked him, and they rode on in the direction we had come from. When I turned round, they had gone. I just thought it was the snow that had hidden them from sight. Now I don’t know.”

Ben shivered. His back tingled as the hair on his neck felt erect.

“Are you sure he said Hoss?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely certain.”

Unknown to all in the living room, Joe hovered in the shadows at the top of the stairs. Like a naughty schoolboy, he had eavesdropped on the conversation happening below. Joe was tired and hungry but too restless to sleep. He had been about to return to the fireside when he overheard his father’s comments about Hoss and Alice. Curiosity then kicked in, and he just had to listen.

A physical pain gripped his heart. He gasped and flinched as though punched in the stomach. Joe staggered back to his room. Had he heard Jedadiah Freeman correctly? Did he say he had seen Hoss and Alice? That was impossible. He knew it was impossible. Both had been gone for too long now. He knew exactly where they were. He had helped to bury both. How could the people he had brought to the house claim to have seen them?

With one sweeping motion, everything on his dresser hit the floor. The jug smashed against the chair, the water soaking the cushion. The bowl followed, bounced once, and shattered into numerous pieces. His clenched fist hit the mirror and caused it to crack and break. His blood splattered the shards and covered his knuckles.

“Damn. Damn. Damn!” Joe cursed and ran his good hand through his tangled hair. He still couldn’t cope with the loss of both brother and wife.

Ben burst into the room, “Joseph, what’s going on? What have you done?” Hop Sing pushed past his boss, intent on clearing the broken chinaware, but stopped on seeing Joe’s bloody hand.

“Hop Sing fix hand, Little Joe. Come down to the kitchen, now. We use back stairs, no need to see guests.” Ben stood back to allow his son to leave the room. Candy was now at the door, anxious to help if needed.

“It’s okay, Candy,” Ben nodded, “I’ll just get this cleaned up. Go and entertain our guests, please. I’ll be five minutes.”

“Is Joe okay?” Jedadiah asked as Candy sat back by the fire. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. He has these days of uncontrolled anger. I do understand why, but I don’t know what to do to help him.”

“You’re very close to him?” Clara asked.

“Yeah. Joe’s about as close to a brother as I could have.”

“Grief manifests in many ways,” Jedadiah started, “does Joe talk about his loss, or does he avoid it?”

Candy snorted back a laugh, “When Joe starts talking, you can’t stop him. But anything concerning Alice and Hoss, he clams up. He refuses to talk about them and gets incredibly angry if Mr. Cartwright or I mention them. We’re both worried about him.”

“Hand now clean, Little Joe. You keep stitches dry so heal quick,” Hop Sing had cleaned Joe’s hand and stitched the worst cut closed. A tight white bandage now protected the wound.

“Hop Sing fix you something to eat now, okay?”

“Please, Hop Sing, just something to drink.”

“Fine, I make special tea to help you sleep. Little Joe, why do you break the bowl and jug?”

The young man shook his head. He was unable to explain the excruciating pain in his heart every time he heard Alice or Hoss’ names. Every day was an effort to survive his loss, and every day, he wished it were his last.

Ben joined them in the kitchen. His face was dark with anger at Joe’s behaviour with guests in the house.

“What do you think you were doing?” Ben demanded in a voice that bordered on a shouted whisper. “Can’t you control your temper just for once?”

Joe sat, head bowed, while his father tore into him. He couldn’t answer or speak. Joe just sat and let his father rage on. He hated being as he was but couldn’t fight it or see his way forward.

“I’m sorry,” that was all he said.

Hop Sing placed the mug of tea on the table, “You drink, then go to bed.” He glared at his employer as he dared him to say more. “Tomorrow another day.” Joe felt the gentle hand on his shoulder. Not his father’s, but Hop Sing, who squeezed it and then guided the young man from the table.

“Good night, Joseph,” Ben’s angry voice could be heard in the outer room, and then a torrent of noisy Chinese followed.

Clara looked at Candy in wonder. Was the little cook telling his boss off?

“It’s okay,” Candy grinned, observing her surprised expression, “Hop Sing is just putting Mister Cartwright straight on a few things. Joe is ‘his’ boy, and he’s reminding him.”

“He can speak to him like that, isn’t he afraid of being dismissed?” Jedadiah asked.

“No, Hop Sing has a special place here. He started before Joe was born, so that’s thirty odd years ago. He threatens to go back to China quite regularly, to his family, as he puts it. Trouble is, most of his family is here or down in San Francisco, so there’s no one to go back to.”

“Why do you not listen to number three son?” Hop Sing had reverted to English and now scolded his employer, “You need to talk to son, not ignore or wash over the problem.”

“Hop Sing, I have tried. But it’s time he was over it all. He’s wearing his grief like an overcoat. I can’t get close to him. I feel like I am losing him too.”

“You remember you ran away when Missy Marie died. Joe did not run away after Missy Alice, he stayed, trying to get through grief here. He stays for you.”

“I know. I am at a loss for what to do next,” Ben admitted. “I just have to keep trying to reach him.”

Joe had crawled into bed. The tea Hop Sing had prepared had been one of his ‘special’ recipes and had contained a small amount of a natural sedative. It hadn’t taken many minutes for Joe to feel the effects of the tea. He almost immediately began to doze off. He was tired of being so unhappy and bad-tempered but didn’t know how to drag himself from the depths of his despair.

Morning found Joe as miserable as ever.

 It was Christmas Eve, and things had to be done before the festive celebrations began. All the yard chores had to be dealt with as usual. The horses fed and watered, and the barn mucked out with more fresh hay scattered. Joe had risen early, grabbed his coat, and slipped out before the rest of the house had surfaced. He’d checked out the chickens were still couped up, refilled the log box for Hop Sing, and the great room’s fire was blazing merrily. When Joe had finished his tasks, he began grooming Cochise. His mind wandered as he brushed long strokes along his mount’s flank. Here, Joe could relax. Not have to think of his father or their guests. He could lose himself in his misery.

Joe confided in his horse, speaking of Hoss and Alice, how he missed them, and how it was his fault both were dead. Of how he should have been there for Alice, how he could have saved her. Of how he should have been able to pull Hoss to safety rather than have him drown in the swollen and angry river.

“It wasn’t your fault, Joe,” a female voice broke into his monologue, “why are you blaming yourself for something beyond your control?”

“What are you doing here?” He was blunt and abrupt with his question. “It’s none of your business.”

“I thought you might like someone to talk to. But I see your horse is a good listener.”

“Yeah, he knows when to keep quiet!”

“Your father is very worried about you, you know.”

Joe stopped brushing, turned, and looked at the woman standing in the doorway.

“Is he? I think he expects everything to be normal again.”

She moved across to a bale of sweet-smelling hay positioned nearer to Joe, “Come and sit with me for a while.” She patted the space beside her. She heard a deep exhale of breath and then the movement as Joe crossed the barn and sat at her side.

Clara, looked at the young man, assessing him critically. He was younger than her or Jedadiah. Although the mass of brown hair was shot through with silver and grey it made him appear older than he was in her opinion. Joe was also a very handsome man. He wore his years well, with only the frown lines etched across his forehead and green eyes that seemed forever on the verge of spilling forth tears. Joe looked drawn into himself, holding every part closed and not permitting anyone to get close.

“You are not to blame,” she started, “they do not hold you responsible.”

Joe, ‘huh-ed’ as he turned to her, “Do you really believe you saw my wife and brother on the road the other day?” Sarcasm dripped with each word he uttered.

“Yes, I do. Why don’t you tell me about them, Joe? Help me get to know them.”

“Hoss was my best friend; I miss him so much. I should have been able to save him, not let him drown. Instead, I watched as he took his last breath. I couldn’t get him out of the water. Every time I close my eyes, I see him reaching out to me. I can’t forgive myself for that.”

“From what your father has told me, you could have drowned too. It was only luck he and Candy rode out to find you both.”

“Some luck.”

“Tell me about Alice.”

Joe sat in silence. The scar tissue from the fire was prominent on both hands as he picked at and worried, the raised and still red skin, causing the blood to ooze across his fingers. The bandage from the previous day was grubby and loose and was now blood-smeared.

“What do you want me to tell you?” he asked, “I loved her. We married and we were expecting a baby. Now she is dead, so is the baby. I wasn’t there, I was here. There’s nothing else to tell.”

“You were here getting wood to build the baby’s room. You had reason to be here. Do you think you could have saved them?”

“I could have tried. I would have tried.”

“You might have been killed too.”

“I would have been with her. I want to be with her.”

“Joseph Cartwright,” Clara turned on him, face flushed with indignation, “I never thought you could be selfish, but you are. What about your father? It would kill him if he lost you. What about Candy? He’s your best friend.”

“Pa’s got Jamie now.”

“Oh please, that’s a rather childish thing to say. You’re the most important person in your father’s life, you must know that!”

For more than an hour, Joe and Clara sat in the warmth and privacy of the barn. He told her things he would never have dreamt of telling another soul. Somehow, she coaxed the young man to share his deepest feelings and share some of the pain he still carried within. Finally, with her arms wrapped around him like a child, Joe let the bottled-up emotions flow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he regained his composure and rubbed at his wet eyes.

“Shall we go and join the others? Your father said something about company arriving this afternoon?”

“I’ll be in in a minute. Clara. Thank you, but please, this is between you and me, okay?”

“Of course, it will be our little secret. I’ll tell Ben you’ll be in soon.”

Later that day, the swish of a sleigh and horses could be heard entering the yard. All hurried to the door to greet the arriving guests.

“Paul, Roy, glad you could get here. Clementine, we’re so pleased to see you,” Ben welcomed Virginia City’s sheriff, doctor, and local font of knowledge and gossip, Clementine Hawkins, “come on in out of the cold. Meet our other guests.”

Introductions were soon made, and all settled around the roaring fire and enjoying fine brandy. Roy and Paul soon caught them up on the local news. Joe was quiet, but he joined in the conversations and chuckled at Clementine’s attempt at joke-telling.

Christmas Eve passed much as it would for the better-situated families in the Storey County territory. Plenty of tasty food, wine, and good company. The Cartwrights and their guests enjoyed the fare that Hop Sing had prepared with great attention to taste and presentation. For him, nothing was too good for his family, and he would put on the best possible spread for their enjoyment.

After dinner, all sat around the fire, warming the outer and the inner body with brandy or wine. Joe, Candy, and Hop Sing sat at the plane-built table, glasses to one side, bodies gently roasting by the heat of the fire. A game of Ma Jong was well in progress, with Hop Sing close to winning. Groans and laughter rolled around the table as he collected more tiles, taking him ever closer to victory. The Freemans, Roy, and Paul sat enjoying the chatter and humour of the friendly game as Ben kept the drinks flowing.

“Do you have a guitar, Ben?” Jedadiah asked in a lull of laughter.

“Why yes. Adam’s old guitar is in his room. Do you play?”

“I can find my way around a tune or two. Clara can play the piano too. I see you have one tucked away in the corner.”

“Alice had learnt the piano as a child. I bought it for her to practice and play. It hasn’t been touched since …” Ben answered, glancing at his youngest son.

“Oh, may I?” Clara piped up. “We could sing some carols to welcome Christmas Day.”

Ben didn’t have to answer; he stood, crossed to the piano, and pulled the cover from it. “Please, be my guest.”

Ben climbed to the upper floor. He ventured into Adam’s room, noting it was as it had been left years before. Not the slightest smidge of dust was visible, nor was any smell of must or mould noticeable. Hop Sing still cared for this room as though Adam would show up tomorrow. Ben grabbed the guitar and returned to the great room.

“Here you are, Jedadiah. I’m not sure if it is in tune, but you can try.”

Clara and Clementine took a seat on either side of the upright piano. Clara ran her fingers across the ivory keys, touching them lightly to get the feel. She then ranged across them to play a simple tune to hear the tone of the now-neglected instrument.

Clementine hummed along to the varied notes before smiling in pleasure, “It’s still in tune, how marvelous.”

The room soon filled with voices singing the carols of the day. Clara was an accomplished pianist with a beautiful voice. Clementine also possessed a very pleasing soprano, and together she and Clara made the traditional songs come to life. Jedadiah accompanied them on the guitar, his bass adding depth alongside Ben’s. Roy and Paul hummed along as they both claimed a strangled cat sounded better than they did. Even Joe joined the celebrations and added his higher tone to the gathering by harmonizing with Candy. Midnight came and went. In silence, they all sat surrounding Ben as he read the Christmas Story from his old family bible. Then, wishing each other a Merry Christmas and goodnight, they all retired for the night.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Joe had risen early again and done the first of the daily chores. The barn was cleaned, the horses were let out to enjoy the fresh air, and the chickens were checked for eggs. Hop Sing was happy to see the fires set and lit, and the kitchen stove ready to use. Although most had been prepared the day before, he would be busy today, with so much to be cooked. Both Clara and Clementine had been godsends in getting everything ready. That Hop Sing had not complained about the women in his kitchen was a definite bonus for the rest of the household.

Breakfast was served with good cheer and bonhomie. Gifts were exchanged, and the day settled into an easy routine. Clara had been gifted a beautiful emerald-green dress that had belonged to Marie. Ben explained she had only worn it once and would have been so happy to see another lady gain the same pleasure as she had. Clara received the dress with graceful appreciation. She soon disappeared to her room to change. Clementine was gifted a basket of Hop Sing’s precious and private spice and herb collection, with recipes for use. Roy and Paul had been easy to please. Both had a taste for Ben’s favourite French brandy and were more than pleased with their gifts. Candy was not so easy to provide for. Eventually, Ben found a handsome and elegant saddle. Joe had worked on it for days until it shone like glass and had been proud of the softened leather and finished glow. Joe, as always, proved hard for Ben. In the past, he had bought a beautiful stallion for his youngest. Then was the saddle he used to this day. A first edition Colt revolver had been one year’s gift. An inlaid Winchester repeater rifle another. Ben had thought long and hard for this year’s gift. After the year’s tragedies, nothing seemed suitable. He had been at a loss until … he had pictures of Alice and Hoss. Photographs from the wedding. A couple of telegrams were sent to an artist in San Francisco. The photographs were mailed, and a couple of months later, a message arrived that the portrait painting was ready. Having it delivered from San Francisco had proved challenging. With some surreptitious help from Paul, it arrived in Virginia City. Joe was none the wiser.

The large package stood behind the piano, unseen by all until Ben bought it out.

“This is for you, Joe. I hope you like it.”

With great care, he unwrapped the rectangular object. Bit by bit, the frame was exposed, and then the painting was revealed.

Joe stood back. His heart was overloaded with every emotion. There before him were Alice and Hoss. Her smile was the one Joe would never forget for as long as he lived. Alice was dressed in all her wedding finery; her dress was a beautiful white creation made especially for her in Virginia City, the gossamer-thin veil framing her face. At her side, in his Best Man suit, stood Hoss. His smile was every bit as warm in art as it was in life.

Joe sat; overcome as tears welled up in his eyes. “Pa,” he started, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, Son,” Ben pulled his son into his arms, “Merry Christmas, Joseph.”

Two days later, the Christmas festivities were over. Roy and Paul needed to return to their respective workloads in Virginia City. Clementine Hawkins decided to join them on the journey home. She had her boarding house to run and hoped her resident guests hadn’t burnt the place down in her absence.

Ben, Joe, and Candy worked around the house rather than out on the land. There were always little jobs to keep them busy in inclement weather, often tasks they put to one side during their busy times. The cold outside jobs were completed quick time and followed by cheerful conversation, card games, and checkers in front of the blazing fire. Joe seemed easier, even relaxed now. He began to smile more and wanted to participate, something he hadn’t done for a long time. Ben wondered about the change in his son but held his peace for fear of Joe reverting to the sullen, unhappy character of mere days before.

Clara and Jedadiah remained as guests for a few more days, helping wherever possible. Hop Sing resumed his control of the kitchen, so Clara kept busy sewing and repairing the assorted items of work clothes the hands had damaged. She also took time to sit and talk with Joe. It seemed to draw him further out of his deep depression.

Evenings were passed gathered in the warmth of the great room. Candy and Joe, dark heads together, played numerous games of checkers and occasionally chess. Their conversation was much as it had been back in the days when Joe and Hoss had enjoyed their marathon games.

“You moved my piece…”

“I didn’t, you did.”

“Not.”

“Cartwright, you moved that piece.”

“Me? Never.” Followed by a giggle and a groan as the checkers finished up on the floor.

“Boys, Boys,” Ben admonished, hiding his grin behind his days-old newspaper, “if you can’t play nicely…”

“Sorry, Pa.”

“Sorry, Mister Cartwright.”

Ben smothered the urge to laugh and resumed his reading.

The Ma Jong board took up residence on the drum table to one side of the fire. Hop Sing had taught Clara and Jedadiah how to play, and now they passed the time in many amicable games. Ben would look up, this was how he liked his home, warm and welcoming with a sense of peace. This had been missing for too long and now he sat back and relished the feeling it gave. He glanced at his son and smiled in contentment. At last, the boy, Joe would always be his boy, was coming back to him.

New Year’s Eve arrived with fresh snowfall. The Freemans were going to leave before the new year, but a further snowfall had delayed their departure. They would enjoy the Cartwright’s hospitality for a few more days.

Throughout the day the house was filled with wonderful exotic smells as Hop Sing prepared a veritable feast of Chinese specialties for the evening meal. All were eager to see what delights he had prepared for them.  

Midnight approached; Ben watched the hands on the old grandfather clock tick their way around to the number twelve. The gathering stood with champagne-charged glasses, waiting for the clock to strike the hour. Tick, tock, tick, tock, time seemed to stand still until the first resounding ‘boing’ reverberated through the room.

“Happy New Year!” They cried out together, as they toasted and raised their drinks to each other. Hugs, handshakes, and kisses, with Clara, were exchanged as they welcomed in the new year.

“Here’s to 1874, may we all have peace and joy,” Ben announced over the noise.

“1874.” they echoed.

Joe flung the front door open as tradition demanded while Hop Sing ran to open the back kitchen door.

“Goodbye 1873, welcome 1874!” Ben declared, standing in the open doorway.

“Happy New Year to you all!” A voice carried in from the yard, “Happy New Year!”

A few hands appeared in the snow, laughing and cheering. Snowballs were soon made, and a mock battle began. Ben looked at his son, then Candy, giving them permission to join the fight, “Go on, I know you want to behave like boys, not men.”

Within moments, the yard was filled with snow flying in every direction. The hands ganged up on Joe and Candy and were getting the upper hand until Clara and Jedadiah joined the fray.

Joe’s unique laugh rang out across the yard as Candy disappeared under a deluge of snow. It was cut short as he too was pounced upon and thrown into the pile shoveled in front of the barn. Ben held his breath; how would Joe react to this? Would he laugh it off, or fly off the handle at the chuckling hands?

The snow-covered shape emerged, bent double to brush it from his torso and legs.

“I’ll get you for that,” Joe threatened, grinning as he grabbed more ammunition to throw at them, “This is war!”

“Let battle commence,” Candy shouted as the grown men, and one woman, played as children just let out of school.

Ben watched the frivolities, Hop Sing stood at his side, a beaming smile on his face.

“Our boy is having fun,” he remarked.

Ben looked at his cook and smiled at his use of ‘our boy.’ “Yes, Hop Sing, our boy is having fun.”

Two days later, Ben, along with Joe and Candy, loaded up the sleigh with the Freemans’ new belongings, hitched the draught team and began the slow journey into Virginia City. It would take a few hours as the trail was still snow-covered and icy in places, but there was no hurry. The countryside was breathtaking and beautiful, dressed in pristine white, and they could take in the surroundings. They would eat in town and probably travel home the next day. Clara and Jedadiah would stay with Clementine until they could catch the stage northbound.

After a final breakfast together, the Cartwrights bid a fond farewell to their guests with instructions to write and to visit if ever they were back in the area. Promises were made to do so in the future. With handshakes and hugs all around, the Cartwrights turned their sleigh towards the Ponderosa and made their way home.

The Freemans paid Clementine for her hospitality, telling her they would take whichever stage came through first, and made their way to the Stage office. Good fortune must have been with them as a stage arrived only an hour after they bought their tickets.

They promptly made themselves comfortable in the small space. As the only passengers, they could spread out and enjoy the ride. Virginia City soon disappeared behind them, and new pastures beckoned them forward.

“I think Joe will be okay now,” Clara mused, “he just needed someone to listen and not to blame him.”

“Yes. You did well with him. If you had failed, he would not have survived Christmas. They are too good a family to have that happen.”

“I wonder where we will be sent or what we will be doing next?”

“We’ll find out soon, we always do.”

Hours later, the stagecoach pulled into a small town some miles farther north. The driver jumped to the ground. “End of the Line,” he shouted, as he opened the door.

The interior was empty. In complete amazement, the driver looked around the small space. Where were the two people who had climbed aboard in Virginia City? Where were their bags? There was no trace of them ever being on the stage. They couldn’t have disappeared into thin air, could they?

The End

Inspired by “Highway to Heaven” directed and produced by Michael Landon.